Chapter 22

Philip took hold of Grace’s waist and pulled her so sharply into him that she fell into his chest.

He loved it. He wrapped his arms firmly around her waist and bent his head toward hers in a kiss.

All he knew was that he had to get rid of the sign of those tears. He had to make her happy, had to see her smile as she had done before, to end this argument, for her to understand everything now.

He half expected Grace to throw him off her, to demand he stop kissing her, but she didn’t. Her hands had snaked up his chest. One hand was pulling on his cravat, tugging him down toward her, as the other clung to his waistcoat, pulling on that too.

He kissed her with such ferocity that they could not stand still in one place from the strength of their movements. They wobbled back on their feet, ending up in the middle of the hearth rug as he embraced her tightly, keeping her to him as close as was physically possible.

“I… don’t… understand,” she said between kisses, clearly struggling to get the words out for he just kept kissing her.

I can’t stop. Not now.

He planted his lips to hers again, tangling her tongue briefly with his own. When she playfully nipped his bottom lip, he growled aloud.

I have to make her mine again.

“Do you think I could stand it?” he said, pulling back an inch. He helped her with his cravat. Together, they pulled it free of his neck. “Every man looking at you in that dress. The Marquess of Morton daring to touch you.”

“He didn’t mean —”

“I don’t care,” he hissed angrily. The waistcoat came next. Their fingers fumbled together as they both unbuttoned it. “When he touched your hand, I was enraged. He went to kiss your hand, Grace —”

“I’m married to you in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Good.” He bent down toward her and kissed her again as they both fumbled, pushing the waistcoat off his shoulders. “You’re mine, Grace,” he said possessively in her ear, fearing she might hate these words, but he had to say them anyway.

When he heard her breathy moan, it was his undoing. He tore that ribbon off her neck and set his lips to the perfect curve of her throat again. He feasted upon her skin, loving the scents she always carried with her of rose and honey. He marked her yet again, listening as she moaned, her hands now burying themselves in his shirt.

She didn’t seem to mind him claiming her as his own again. It was a break in their argument, that fierceness now shifted into passion, and he was intending to take advantage of every second of it.

He reached for the gown and hurried to untie the laces situated at the front of this one. As he pulled it down her shoulders, he kissed her exposed skin, going for her bare shoulders first then the crests of her breasts just visible above the stays and chemise.

With the gown on the floor, rather than urging her to step out of it, he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her in one clean movement out of it. She gasped against him, that sound filling him with ideas of what more they could do together once there were no clothes between them.

He kicked the gown away, leaving a bare stretch of hearth rug beneath them. Rather than taking her down to that rug straight away, he had other ideas. He urged her to turn around. Under the guise of undoing her corset, he took hold of her waist and encouraged her forward.

She planted her hands onto an armchair in front of her with her rear toward him, now in a perfect position for him to have access to her. He drew her chemise up around her waist, revealing all her curves.

“Perfect,” he whispered against her skin, kissing her all over her hips and rear, even up to the small base of her back. “You do not know how wild this drives me, Grace.” With the words, he gripped both of her rounded hips and drove his hips into hers.

She moaned, her fingers splaying on the cushion in front of her.

Quite determined to hear not only her making such sounds, but to have her moaning his name again, he reached down between her legs. He toyed with her first, teasing her, trailing his fingers up and down her legs. She grew impatient, arching her back, moaning in frustration.

He reached across her back, pulling on the laces of her corset until she was free, and it dropped from her body. He took hold of her hair next, pulling out as many pins as he could find until her honey hair was wild about her shoulders.

This was one of the things he quite adored about Grace. It was one of the things that rendered him weak around. When she was so undone, unbidden, wild in both appearance and manner, he couldn’t resist her.

He trailed his fingers through her hair, his other hand moving higher and higher on the inside of her left thigh until she groaned and rocked back into him. He could feel her heat and was sure she’d be wet and ready for him already.

Before he touched her with his fingers, though, he bent down, moving to his knees and placed his tongue to her entrance instead.

“Philip!” she cried with sudden amazement and pleasure.

Philip knew the way she had cried his name would haunt his pleasurable dreams now. He rocked his tongue into her repeatedly, driving her wild, thinking of the other things they could do in this position.

When she was trembling, her fingers gripping the cushion of his armchairs so much she was in danger of leaving permanent creases there, he shifted their position.

He stood and unfastened his trousers, licking his lips when she looked back at him over her shoulder, so she knew that he liked her taste. Her back arched again, accenting her curves in all the right areas as he moved his length toward her.

He needed her. He wanted to take her fast, but he also knew it was so soon after he had taken her the first time that she might still be sore. Not wanting to hurt her again, after all he had done to hurt her feelings that evening, he took her slowly at first.

He nudged his length inside of her, watching as she looked down at the cushion again. Her hair, wild about her head, hid her completely from view as moans escaped her lips.

He rocked into her, slowly, his hands running over every part of her he could reach. He sometimes gripped her hips, other times her whole rear. He even reached forward and slipped his hands under her chemise, taking hold of her breasts and squeezing softly as he rocked into her.

Her moans grew faster, but he wasn’t ready for this to end. Not just yet.

He pulled himself out of her and took her waist, urging her to stand and face him. She was breathless, bright pink in the face, her bottom lip almost red from where she had bitten it in an effort to stifle her moans.

He raised a hand and ran his thumb across that lip, thinking of how much they had kissed, of how he would be the only one to bite that lip.

She cannot take a lover. The mere thought of her doing so… it enrages me.

He kissed her again, taking that lip and sucking on it as he wanted to do. When she was dithering, her hands reaching for his shoulders, he urged her down onto the hearth rug.

He lifted her chemise over her head and threw it aside, just as he kicked off the last of his trousers too. When they were completely naked, he laid himself over her, raising her knees high around his hips, though he didn’t quite enter her again yet.

He stared down at her instead, taking in the sight of her, of the way her eyes gazed up at him. It was as if she had been waiting for this, wanting him as much as he had longed for her all day.

This is far from any normal attraction, Grace. I know that.

Yet he didn’t say it. He bent forward and kissed her again, taking hold of her knees and lifting them high, so she was nearly bent in half, then he entered her.

The sounds she made were so perfect that he stopped kissing her. He hovered his face over hers instead, watching as her lips parted into the perfect ‘o’ shape. She moaned his name, her eyes closed with the pleasure then they opened again, watching him.

Her heat and wetness were his undoing. He was so close to his end, but he was determined to have her there with him so that they could tumble over that precipice together, just the two of them.

“Hold onto me,” he pleaded in a husky tone. She did as he asked, wrapping her arms up around his back and clinging onto his shoulders. He loved that grip.

It grounded him, allowing him to thrust into her faster, to take her with such heat and purpose that she was dithering with his touch.

“Ah, God, Grace,” he started moaning, unable to stay silent anymore. “You’re mine,” he whispered, bending over her. “Say it,” he pleaded as he buried his head in her neck.

“I’m yours, Philip.”

It was the thing that tipped him over the edge, hearing those words.

He thrust into her again, driving his hands onto the rug on either side of her head. As he did so, she reached her climax too. As he had hoped for, they fell into that oblivion together with him constantly rocking their bodies together, sating their need for one another.

With such pleasure overwhelming him, he could not think straight. It felt like very little blood was left in his head at all. He had to rock forward and rest his weight fully on his arms on either side of her as they both panted, trying to come down from their pleasure.

He couldn’t think about what it meant to desire Grace this much or to be enraged by any other man even looking at her, let alone touching her. He also couldn’t think about why Grace’s signs of tears had crushed him.

All he could think about was Grace and this feeling.

He bent over her, moving his lips against hers. It was soft, sensual, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deeper embrace, he happily molded his body to hers, not even considering pulling out of her any time soon.

When they did part their lips, he buried his face in her neck for a while, just inhaling her scent. Her fingers ran up and down his spine in the most tantalizing and yet soft way. It was an indulgence, a gentleness that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly into the curve of her neck, their bodies still connected.

“For what?” she asked as her hands stopped moving. He raised himself up a few inches, the better to look into her eyes.

She was still pink cheeked from what they had done, her lips red, too, in the most delicious way.

“For stealing your freedom tonight,” he whispered. “You’re right, I should not have done that.”

No matter how jealous I was.

She smiled and reached up, kissing him lightly on the lips.

“You’re forgiven.”

He turned it into a firmer kiss. There was such warmth between them that he had little desire to end this moment. He swept an arm under her waist and rolled the two of them together. His length left her, but their bodies stayed flush, so she fell onto his chest, her legs straddling him.

“I have a suggestion,” he said, tucking her head under his chin as they kept their arms around one another. She peppered sweet kisses to his collarbone. It made his gut tingle again, wanting more of such kisses. “Tomorrow, we could go for a ride. I could show you the estate.”

She stopped kissing him. In one swift movement, she sat up on him, completely straddling his hips now.

In all her naked glory, she was visible to him now, her honey hair wild about her shoulders, her breasts and curves glistening in the sweat of what they had shared. Any second, he thought his length might be hardened for her again.

“A ride?” she said in clear disbelief. “You wish to go riding with me?” She pointed between the two of them.

“Is that so surprising?”

“Of course, it is!” she said hastily.

“You like riding? You’ve already liked the outdoors.”

“I know that.” Grace shook her head, clearly exasperated by him. He grew distracted, though, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips. She placed her hands over him, stopping his movements. “Keep doing that, and I’m simply going to want to do it again.”

“Now, there’s a temptation.” His length was indeed hardening once again, an incredible thing after he had only just spent himself inside of her. Yet he knew they should not. They had already had sex twice in a short space of time. So quickly after her first time, this second incident would surely leave her sore.

“Why do you want to come riding with me, Philip?” she asked, her fingers moving from his to traveling up his arms. She moved them all the way to his biceps, leaning over him. It made her hair hang down on one side, cocooning them as her breasts hovered temptingly above him. “What happened to your rule of barely wanting to spend time together? Of not even having a conversation in the carriage because you did not want to become entangled with me?”

“Some rules are harder to keep than others.” He raised one of his hands from her hips, tangling it in her hair, then drew her head closer toward him. “Maybe for this month, and just this one month…” He reminded himself of this, for no matter what was going on between him and Grace, he intended to keep distance eventually, to keep her safe from him.

“This one month?” she urged him on. She bent down, her lips hovering over his, teasingly close to kissing him again.

“We can get a little messy with the rules.”